


The Lazarus Phenomenon

by dotfic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-01
Updated: 2008-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:02:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotfic/pseuds/dotfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam can't think too much. If he does, he'll break apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lazarus Phenomenon

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: Ten drabbles, one for each episode of season 4 so far. Drabble titles are from Easter 1916 by William Butler Yeats. Thank you to [](http://musesfool.livejournal.com/profile)[**musesfool**](http://musesfool.livejournal.com/) for the fine-tuning.

**1\. Polite meaningless words**

Sam's chest feels tight, his pulse hammering too fast, too strong, in his wrists and his neck. The room lurches, then steadies.

He watches Dean, looking for scars, bruises, for subtle differences, any sign of the things that happened to him. Sam wonders if he's having one of those dreams again. Maybe it's July instead of September.

Someone's talking, words blending together in a quiet unintelligible hum of sound.

It's Ruby. Reality snaps back in, along with a flicker of shame.

Sam keeps up the façade she spins for them, the ache in his chest threatening to break him apart.

~*~

 **2\. Not night but death**

Even before he steps into the kitchen, Sam hears Dean wheeze and choke for air. He hurries in and sees the ghost of Victor Henriksen with his hand in Dean's chest, about to rip out his heart.

It happens quickly. Sam puts the shotgun to his shoulder, fires, and the ghost vanishes.

With the spirits closing in and Bobby struggling to finish the spell that will save them, they move with action ahead of thought.

It brushes Sam's mind: the concept of Dean's heart stopping, Dean with his chest ripped open and bloody.

There's no time to think about it.

~*~

 **3\. Now and in time to be**

He's never felt so far away from his brother, not even during the years at Stanford with their sporadic text messages and voice mails, the rare phone conversations that eventually stopped altogether.

As long as Dean's alive, he's okay with this. He's okay.

This isn't something Dean will understand, and Sam knows the weight his brother carries already, has always carried.

This is Sam's.

It's necessary. As soon as he finds the words to explain it, he'll tell Dean.

He'll turn this curse into a blessing, use it to destroy Lilith. Dean's alive, and he's going to stay that way.

~*~

 **4\. Minute by minute they live**

When he wakes up in the closet, it takes a second or two for his aching head to orient itself.

Then Sam remembers where he is and what's on the other side of the locked door.

His panic has a flavor--metallic, bitter, so sharp he catches his breath. _Not again._

There's silence.

 _No, please God, no--_

It's an actual prayer. Sam hasn't prayed for months. He concentrates, willing the door to splinter open, but if course it doesn't.

When Jack calls out that he hasn't killed Dean yet, Sam slumps bonelessly.

He can't--it's too much.

Too much.

~*~

 **5\. Where motley is worn**

Pennsylvania is one of those times when Sam gets why Dean likes hunting. No, it's why Sam likes hunting too. The unraveling of a puzzle, the assurance of using tools he understands, the knowledge that afterwards, people will be a little bit safer.

He finds Dean unharmed. At first the ludicrousness of Dean strapped to some kind of a mad-scientist wooden platform distracts him.

Then Dean stands up, and it's all Sam can do not to double over laughing at the sight of his brother in lederhosen.

Pennsylvania is when Sam thinks maybe it's going to be all right. Maybe.

~*~

 **6\. Make a Stone of the Heart**

He swallows down his fear, bites back the words, _it's going to be fine, we'll figure this out, we'll find a way to save you._

Instead, Sam goes to work, telling himself to approach this scientifically. He doesn't think beyond that, tries not to think about Dean. He makes jokes about his brother being a dick, feels his calm stretching, about to snap.

All his life, he's been the protected one, and the one time when Dean had desperately needed saving, Sam had failed.

But he has to think only about the job.

 _Please God--_

No.

Work the puzzle.

~*~

 **7\. Through Summer and Winter**

It's a twisted sting of relief that when he uses his powers again, Dean is a witness.

The look on Dean's face is more betrayed and sorrowful than angry. Sam knows better how to handle Dean's anger when he's throwing punches and yelling than what to do with this silent, hurt stare.

It's strange, though, because as the tickle of blood drips down over his upper lip, for the first time in a while he feels the gap between them narrow.

There have been enough lies.

Sam stares back at his brother.

He no longer cares what the angels think.

~*~

 **8\. All changed, changed utterly**

It didn't begin with Lilith. Maybe it was Azazel, but Azazel's dead.

There's also the way their lives seem to have been hurtling them too fast down the highway towards this.

When they stand before the fountain, the only answer Sam has for Dean is _Lilith's head on a plate, bloody_.

Not only Lilith who held Dean's contract, but Lilith who tormented them, killed innocents, Lilith whose hounds tore Dean to shreds.

It's Lilith who's altered them both irreparably, until they have to struggle not to feel like strangers.

 _Lilith's head on a plate, bloody_ won't begin to cover it.

~*~

 **9\. Hearts with one purpose alone**

They run together at the window, crash through at the same time. All Sam hears is breaking glass, splintering wood, before he's clear, free falling with the shards glinting in the air around him.

Dean's a blur next to him, glimpsed during the confused flashes of sky, trees, earth, before they land with twin, quick thuds. The impact jars up through Sam, ricochets sharp through his body.

He ducks his head, tucks, and rolls. Just like Dean taught him when they were kids.

The world stops spinning.

Dean's grasp on his lower arm is strong, pulling him to his feet.

~*~

 **10\. May it suffice**

Sam lifts his hand, and stops with his palm hovering inches from his brother's back.

He can pull demons out of humans—what use is it?

Sam knows his brother. A confession isn't necessarily a request for advice or comforting words. In the past, it's seemed like enough to listen, to be a presence.

Nothing, now, will be enough.

Dean's trying to stay upright trapped in a private hell, and if Sam touches him now, he'll crumble in on himself. It's either what Dean needs, or it will splinter him completely.

His hand remains hovering inches from his brother's back.


End file.
